


The Tales of Courageous and Tenacious

by tokutske



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Clovis is cool, Clovis is good fighting, Connor Stoll is Indifferent, Dakota is a sadist, Dakota is amazing, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Gangs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Light Sadism, Minor Character(s), New Rome (Percy Jackson), Octavian has shitty days, Octavian is good, POV Minor Character, Plot, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Gaea & The Second Giant War (Percy Jackson), Pre-The Second Titan War (Percy Jackson), Timeline What Timeline, Travis Stoll is Reckless, Underage Drinking, what if...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokutske/pseuds/tokutske
Summary: Travis and Connor Stoll have a lot of secrets. Most of them are light ones, like where they keep their pranking supplies at camp, or where they hide their (stollen) candies. Other's are darker, like how they killed demigods in the Second Titan War so easily, or their history before camp. Or maybe why they became so rapidly used to the Romans presence. Maybe they could explain why they are so sad about Octavian's death, at least a little bit?Or where Travis and Connor get backstory and they are badass.(Or where Octavian is good and has a better reason to hate Greeks)





	1. Warriors of New Rome

            Maybe it was because Travis and Connor had been together all their lives. They were almost like twins, something which they always joked about. They joked about everything like there was no tomorrow, because they knew that between them, they would always get a person to understand them, namely, each other. When they were ten and nine respectively and they had joined the Twelve Warriors of New Rome, they were surprised blatantly. Every single person in the group understood them.

All the members of the TWoNR made it their goal to make them feel welcomed, even though they had not obligation to do so. It was funny though, watching Neal, the son of Victory, trying and failing to stop being so cynical and sadistic their first days; even more so, watching the son of Bellona, Markus, trying to smile, even though he just couldn’t.

By that time, Connor had always been a reserved _and_ insensitive person. He just didn’t and couldn’t care about anything or anyone more than his brother, Travis. These people managed to break him out of his shell, and even got him to laugh a few times. They even knew that both brothers were, in fact, not roman, and even then, they swore friendship and loyalty to them.

Travis was always brasher than his brother. Brasher, more reckless and hotter tempered. The group made sure he didn’t do anything stupid, which was a really hard thing to do, and besides helped to keep him in line so he didn’t shout to New Rome’s higher commands (no need to make a praetor or a centurion angry, after all).

It was sad to watch some of them die in their line of duty. Especially when Neal started killing sprees every time this happened, massacring his enemies without a second thought. Everything the brothers could do when this happened was stand aside, because they understood his need, they understood his feelings.

When the TWoNR broke up in the Senate’s orders, they disbanded into two groups and left New Rome. The two groups had to contact each other at least one time every two months. In this nomadic time, they had to stand together just to survive to the monsters and to the demigods that would attack them. They were right to fear.

Seeing Neal there, losing blood, laying beside Markus, talking to them about the old times, saying _“sorry”_ because he would not be there to protect them again had been horrible. In twenty years, Connor and Travis gained and lost a lot. And this was just six years after they left what they had called their home. Every member had known that they would not fit correctly into the ranks of the romans; besides, nobody wanted to risk being recognized by someone and be called murderers the rest of their life (though they were that. They had murdered loads of people).

They weren’t so surprised when they meet Dakota, the son of Bacchus. He had been by that time, just ten years after they left the TWoNR, a gang leader. Dakota Prestwich hadn’t been fooling around, the guy was a downright sadistic psycho that didn’t have human decency. He had even seemed a little gloomy for the fact that he couldn’t kill them; for that, the brothers were grateful. They were allies with New Rome, whether the group disbanded or not, so Dakota couldn’t kill them unless he wanted to be cursed six ways to Sunday by the gods.

Their interaction had been contemplative, careful, cautious and all in all, weird.

_Connor dreaded the day his older brother would make a good negotiator, because if that happened, it would mean Connor would not be there to defuse the situation (and he didn’t want to think about_ why _he wouldn’t be there). So that’s why, still trying (and failing) to hide behind some containers from the gang, he made a backup plan. All in case their leader showed up. Which he did._

_A slender figure taller than them, maybe one or two years older, walked towards them slowly, making both turn around. The child that stood more nearby than anyone sane would want to, let a choked laugh full of insanity. He leaned a little closer._

_“So, you are the ones that invaded my territory?” asked the mysterious person, clearly mocking them. “Sweet!”._

_Connor could describe him with a word: deranged. Whoever this child was, he was a complete lunatic, if the emotion he was sporting was anything to go by. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and military style black jeans with various pockets; but that was far from important. The things that most mattered was his sword and his eyes. Because his sword was a Decapitator, and there were only two models, carried by two different and dangerous persons and his eyes gave away who of the two he was. The younger Stoll swore under his breath, because from the two people, they got the insane one._

_“Dakota Prestwich, the Senseless Slayer” said Connor through gritted teeth._

_He said because he knew the k… no, kid no. The guy was a monster, a criminal and murderer. Connor acted on orders, but this guy? This guy enjoyed killing and watching people suffer, and he noticed who the guy was just by seeing his extremely weird eyes. One was of a dark shade of green while the other of a light green. Rare…_

_“Indeed” he answered with an arrogant air. “What brings_ graecus _scum to this place?”_

_Connor could almost_ see _Travis line of thought. How the hell did the freak know that they were Greeks (besides, his older brother was obviously cursing at Dakota because, well: graecus)?_

_“We are allies to New Rome, we are_ Tenacious & Courageous  _from the Warriors of New Rome!” Travis exclaimed at Dakota, feeling insulted._

_Connor saw this as an intelligent move. Now, even if Dakota didn’t believe them, he’d had to be careful and not kill them, because if they were saying the truth (which they were), he could get cursed in response. Even deranged, he heard and read lots of histories about the Senseless Slayer, and damn, he was intelligent, a genius even._

_“Allies… Graecus, allies with New Rome…” the brothers current concern muttered, somewhat surprised. “Graecus, Tenacious & Courageous… You have to be kidding be!” the soon to be teen shouted._

_‘How did those two get involved with such a group?! More importantly, how did they join New Rome being graecus?!’ Dakota thought, trying to find the answer to something that seemed impossible._

_Of course, it worked. And of course, they had to prove themselves as allies of New Rome. Absently, and not really paying attention, both swore on the River Styx._

_The next days, after Dakota let them stay at his gang’s HQ, were full of assassination attempts. Of course, the Stolls didn’t fall for that, they were too tough to do so… besides, they weren’t trained warriors for nothing. After thanking him (they were forced to do so, so they could leave), they went their way._

After the whole Dakota incident, they had been quite restrained in movement by a huge mass of monsters travelling erratically. It was suspicious, but not their problem.

Then they ran in with Clovis Merriweather.

 

**_July 5 th, 1960_ **

Octavian _wasn’t_ having a good day. Early in the morning, he had gone to do his usual auguries, because that’s what an augur does. What he saw had been quite odd. The monsters had started acting erratically, something he had expected. Gaea had attempted to rise in the summer of nineteen forty-something, which might have something to do with it. He had seen the Stolls in the visions as well, talking with his right-hand and perfect spy, Clovis.

Damn, he felt a headache incoming…

Clovis was a son of Hypnos, the god of dreams and sleep. This meant Clovs had this super cool perk that allowed him to spy other people’s dreams. And this perk had another perk: when Clovis was searching for dreams to invade people’s privacy, he was floating like a ghost, like a spirit out of its body. He could see whatever he wanted, till he entered the dream. This made him, obviously, the perfect scout.

It wasn’t that Clovis was a bad spy or that he could tell everyone his secrets (the guy was, in truth, damn secretive), but frankly, Octavian had spoken with Clovis, telling him to trust the brothers. Which meant that Clovis wouldn’t have a mouth filter and would, most likely, reveal Octavian had been spying them. Something they would not like. The blond was going to get yelled at. A lot.

He would have kept going over how his live was turning into a piece of shit, if it wasn’t because someone interrupted him.

“Octavian, sir, you look excessively constipated” a redhaired soldier pointed out, with a poker face that made him want to laugh.

Raiden Azbelth could be very funny for someone from the Second Cohort, something which said a lot about their sense of humor. The teen could be extremely serious and calm even in the weirdest situations. Like this one.

“I’m deeply sorry you had to witness my existential crisis, please, can you tell me what brought you here in this horrible afternoon?” Octavian answered with a dismissive gesture, mildly amused.

“There have been reports of some sort of Greek resistance in the south of the Flavo Outpost. We are parting on a mission to decimate them. In the evening, exactly at 6:30 pm, we are going to come for the usual tradition. Praetor Riza ordered me to give you previous warning, he says you can be a little…” the guy tried to look for the better way to describe a pissed blond.

“Livid, mad, fuming, irritated, annoyed? You know, just to name a few.” Suggested the augur in a conversating manner.

“Yes. Mm, when you don’t get the heads up…” replied Raiden, unsure, but still with the calm demeanor.

Octavian smiled rather gratefully, he certainly didn’t like to see half of the Legion waiting outside the temple like idiots at six o’ clock (more like six thirty, the first thirty minutes were spent at the Temple of Bellona), when he was unprepared. It made him want to go and jump from a cliff. Yeah, his mind was a fucking mess. So, the Legion arrived, the Second Cohort going to a shitty mission to decimate the enemy, he did augurs, like always. At least fifteen of them were going to die, but Octavian didn’t tell them that.

“This quest will be full of hardships, unpredictable deaths will settle upon us, always be cautious with the north, don’t follow the rogues in the south and keep in your mind that the only enemies aren’t the _graecus_ ” dialogued Octavian, dryly chuckling inwardly, thinking about how most of them were too bent up to kill the Greeks to really remember that there were monsters too.

Octavian looked towards New Rome’s exit. Bad times were approaching.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavian tends to get angry when believed dead and Dakota is always having a hard time reminiscing about the past.

         Connor and Travis were in their cabins, quietly dodging odd sleeping people in the floor: maybe what made them odd was the fact that they clung to their things like someone was going to jump suddenly in front of them and steal those valued objects. Something which happened in Cabin 13, the Hermes cabin, on a daily basis. Connor and Travis did it as quickly as they could, careful to not step on anyone.

         Though Travis had been gone for one whole year, he decided to visit camp when he had free time from the university. And a lot of people on their floor were their half-siblings because they all decided to have a weird slumber party, welcoming their new two siblings.

         Both of them had been quite worried someone else would be awake —someone who actually cared about where two of the oldest campers were going— at this time of the morning (4:00 am), preventing them to go and sneak to the stables— a place that they considered safe enough to IM Octavian. They entered the stables swiftly, searching for anyone (or anything) that may try to hear the conversation. Finding no one, both of them sat down.

         "Oh, Iris, goddess of Rainbows", Connor started saying, tossing a drachma into the rainbow they had generated with the Can of Rainbows that Cabin 9 had created, "show me Octavian, at Wisconsin".

         An image started forming in the misty rainbow, showing an awake blond augur, staring at the stars from his rented apartment. They knew Iris was probably going to be a tad bit angry to them for causing her a possible headache, but they didn't care. They had to give the news to their blond friend.

         "Octavian," Connor called out before asking, "are you still alive?"

         The not-so-young-teen's eyes widened for a small fraction of time, however, only to be recomposed instantly, the look of surprise disappearing from his face in a flash.

         "Yes, I think I am, I look healthy enough to be alive, don't you think?" the augur said, sarcasm lacing his words.

         "No need to be so snarky" Travis joked.

         "If you two don't have anything important for me, I'm going to hang up" Octavian warned seriously.

         Connor heard his brother muttering something along the lines of  _"who kicked his puppy?"_  and  _"rude dead people"_.

         "Jason will die", informed Connor without a second thought, not really paying attention to Travis rambling.

         The news had the effect he expected. Octavian's face had gone from angry to surprise and pale, adopting the looks of a dead man— something which he supposedly was, at least, according to the everyone else but those they had met in the past: such as Dakota and Clovis, and obviously Connor and Travis.

         "What?" the blond asked, disbelieving.

         "Jason Grace is going to die" and the severity with which Connor said that made Octavian tremble, something neither of the brothers would have caught, had it not been for Octavian's shaking hands. "There was a prophecy, one in that forest. He had to choose, Octavian, and he did. He is giving up his life for that one he loves, Piper McLean. It's inevitable, the Fates want it like this". _I'm sorry_ , that was what Connor wanted to say at that moment, that moment that seemed to last thousands of years. But he knew he couldn't.

         He  _wasn't_  sorry, it  _wasn't_  his fault. It was the Fates that where meddling with their lives. Then why did he feel like everything was actually his fault? That he could have done something?  _Man, being Percy must really suck if he thinks like this all the time,_  the younger Stoll thought.

         "That's not... It's impossible! Jason can't die! Isn't there something we can do?" that was everything the blond had been able to say, before Travis loud voice, with total finality, declared the only answer that existed.

         " **No**."

         And the hollow eyes that accompanied that statement, only made Octavian want to yell more. But he didn't. The only thing he did was swing his hand to destroy the IM, a look of total fury taking place in his face.

 

  
         It's not that Dakota wanted to be drunk half of the time, but it was undeniable that drinking so much Kool-Aid was calming, and he reluctantly learned to love it at the same time. It made it hard to lash out to people and let the person he was in the past take the control. He had made a promise and like hell, he was going to break it.

         Dakota knew not a lot of people thought about promises as important things, especially mortals (because in the pantheons, one broken promise would probably lead you to your demise) or Nico di Angelo, but the last one was a case that he would touch any other day. He also knew that in pantheons people tended to promise things to powerful people, so he constantly asked himself what lead him to make such a strong and important promise to a son of Hephaestus (not that he undermined the god, unlike other Romans, Dakota tried to respect each god for equal).

         He remembered it had been one year after the brothers left his base. The son of Hephaestus had saved him from the massacre that had occurred to his whole gang —so many monsters, they were a lot, and he really thought he was going to die...—, the guy had patched him up, and remained strong and undeterred even after Dakota threatened to kill him as soon as he saw an opportunity. Enkei had smiled through all the process, only frowning when Dakota started shouting at high levels or insulted him calling him graecus.

         It had been hard to adjust traveling with Enkei.

         There had been a time — _a last time_ , they found an old Roman outpost that had been supposedly abandoned, and they went different ways to explore the place, and no one should have been there —Enkei was supposed to have kept smiling after that.

         He had called Enkei multiple times, and after the fifth he started to worry, praying it was a stupid prank, that it was a horrible nightmare and he would wake up very soon wrapped in the son of Hephestus arms, the son of a bitch smiling all the while squashing him like a pillow, impeding him from leaving from his bed.  
         It didn't take him long to find him, and discover it wasn't a dream, nor a nightmare, that he wasn't asleep.

         Enkei was sprawled on the floor, his eyes unblinkingly staring dead at the space. An expression of fear had been adopting his features, a pool of blood coming from his only wound, the one in his throat: a horrible deep, large, cut. It didn't take him time to know the weapon was a knife, and it didn't take him so much time to locate the bastard who did it in the place.

         He killed him without a second thought (it wasn't a Roman, he found out, it was a criminal), enjoying every second of it. Not caring that he killed in cold blood.  
         Not even the begging of the idiot he killed stopped him.

         He eventually returned where his once best friend (and lover) was, letting the wails, the tears, and all the pain out. Because how had this happened to him? Why was he destined to suffer? Was it because all the lives he had destroyed, massacred, without consideration? Was this what bad luck, karma, was?  
         He swore on Enkei's body that he would never let that cold-blooded bastard he once was, rule his life again unless it was necessary, and involved his friends or his people in any way. And he was going to keep that promise, that oath, even if he had to die to do it.

         So drinking wasn't a worry. It made him mediocre enough to forget, to live in the present. One would have thought it would be backward, but he found himself stronger when walking like a zombie, getting yelled by other people, than when reminiscing Enkei and their adventure, and the weirdness of his life.  
         Dakota craved for a normal demigod life or an easy mortal one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +English is not my first language. So please, tell me if I wrote anything wrong.
> 
> +You are all lovely people! So here is chapter 2!! We are going to eventually get everyone: This is mostly focused on the Stolls, but I still like giving the spotlight to Dakota and Clovis occasionally. Not to mention Octavian!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: don't even know why I put this here. It's quite obvious a don't own anything more than Original Characters here.
> 
> +My first language is Spanish, so I'm deeply sorry if there are any gramatical and/or ortographic errors.


End file.
